


Sacrifice

by fawatson



Category: The King Must Die Series - Mary Renault
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 00:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1919868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Corinthian bull-leaper learns of his destiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> **Originally posted to:** maryrenaultfics at LiveJournal on 31/10/2011  
>  **Originally written for:** Spooky Story Halloween Challenge   
> **Prompt:** The unquiet dark  
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters and make no profit from them.  
>  **Author’s Note:** This takes place during chapter 4.

I had left my sacrifice ‘til late, knowing all the rest would be long to their beds. As I brought incense to burn for my luck on the morrow, the triton perched on the rocks by the spring, as if to mock me. By that I knew my fate. Others had spoken of seeing their fate before a performance, only to laugh and jest in relief the next afternoon when they found themselves alive – scratched perhaps, but still intact. Their imaginations the night before clearly had got the better of them. 

I had never doubted my survival though. Not until now. I bowed a respectful greeting to the daimon, before bending to my task. If tomorrow’s performance was to be my last dance, then I should at least go to my fate with honour. Shades of dancers who had gone before me whispered in the shadows as I set the myrrh, sandalwood, and scented oil in the bowl, struck tinder, and set them alight. 

I would not see my mother in again, nor my sister – fortunately still too young to be taken in tribute. But the god of my lost home had not forsaken me, even here in this foreign place. He had given me his sign, and I knew myself beloved of Poseidon, though he had chosen another to take forward his work. 

The next morn I cleansed myself ritually, and oiled my body. I painted a horse symbol on my face in dedication to his mystery, before entering the ring. My bull emerged from his dark enclosure, blinking and bellowing at the bright light of the arena. I saluted him, my nemesis, before turning to search out the one who would come after. There – there he was, high up in the crowd: Theseus, son of the god, who would bring down his divine wrath on this place. I began to dance.


End file.
